


Hunter and Fitz: Agents of S.T.R.I.K.E.

by jessiecrimefighter



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Crack, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-22 20:06:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4848758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessiecrimefighter/pseuds/jessiecrimefighter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Feeling at a loose end and left out of things on the base, Fitz and Hunter decide to form their own secret agent team within S.H.I.E.L.D.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hunter and Fitz: Agents of S.T.R.I.K.E.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [memorizingthedigitsofpi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/memorizingthedigitsofpi/gifts).



> Um...so this was inspired by memorizingthedigitofpi's very funny manip of Iain De Caestecker and Nick Blood in their matching t-shirts (see below). I posted a comment on it, she prompted me to write a fic, and needing a distraction from both my dissertation and my WIP, I decided to give it a go. This was initially just supposed to be a crack drabble, but it kind of took on a life of its own, and even got weirdly fluffy and 'feels-y' in parts. So, I don't know, but anyway I had a lot of fun writing it!

“Can you believe that Coulson said we were spending too much time together?” Fitz muttered resentfully as he picked at the label on his beer bottle.

“I know!” Hunter replied. “Unbelievable! I drank my way to Mexico and back with that man. I thought we shared something.” He shrugged as he took a swig from his own bottle.

“I thought we were a good team,” Fitz said sadly.

“We _were_ a good team,” Hunter agreed. “I mean, we got it done, didn’t we? Just the three of us against Commander McMoustache and Hufflepuff Shield.”

“We had some good times as well, didn’t we?” Fitz’s eyes took on a hazy look as he smiled to himself. “Hey, remember that time I almost killed Ward?”

“I do, mate, that was _insane_ ,” Hunter replied, as he clinked his bottle against Fitz’s. “You were a maniac, I had to pull you off him.”

“Yeah,” Fitz chuckled. “Like I said, good times.”

“Good times,” Hunter agreed, fondly shaking his head at the memory.

They drank in comfortable silence for a moment, before Fitz sat forward suddenly. “Hey, you know what,” he said. “Screw Coulson! If he doesn’t want to be part of our team anymore, then that’s his loss. You and I still make a good team, right?”

“We _absolutely_ do,” Hunter concurred. “Remember that time you and I stopped the Bus from blowing up?”

“Of course I do, Hunter, that’s exactly what I’m talking about,” Fitz said excitedly. “You and I should be a team! Our own team!”

“What do you mean, like partners?” Hunter asked. “Mate, that is a wicked idea! We should go on missions together and stuff. Like Mack and Daisy.”

“Yeah, ‘cause they’re all busy being partners and hunting down Inhumans, and ‘oh, we’re so cool, we’re Mack and Daisy’,” Fitz said huffily.

“Tell me about it,” Hunter said, shaking his head. “I go out on missions with them, and they’re like Mulder and Scully and I’m tagging along like a spare part. You know they’ve got all these little in-jokes between them now? Like stuff that I don’t get? It used to be _me_ and Mack that had the in-jokes. You know, _before_ I discovered he was planning a mutiny with my ex-wife,” he added with a nonchalant shrug.

Fitz nodded sadly. “Yeah, me and Mack were like partners in the garage. He had a nickname for me and everything. He called me ‘Turbo’. Now he has one for Daisy. He calls her ‘Tremors.’” He rolled his eyes.

“I think ‘Turbo’ is better,” Hunter pronounced.

“It is, isn’t it?” Fitz said, with a touch of indignation.

“If you ask me,” Hunter said, lowering his voice and leaning towards Fitz conspiratorially, “I think ‘Tremors’ is a bit weak. Lacks imagination.”

“You’re so right,” Fitz said, his eyes widened in agreement. “I mean, I told Daisy that she should have a superhero name. She could be an Avenger one day, she needs a cool name. I said ‘Tremors’ makes her sound like she has a drinking problem or something. So I suggested …‘Quake’.” He said this with a swipe of his hand as if he was imagining it on a giant billboard.

“Quake!” Hunter cried. “I love it!”

“Yeah, but she didn’t,” Fitz replied moodily. “She said it made her sound like oatmeal. I really thought that when Daisy became a superhero that I could be like her gadget guy, like her Lucius Fox or Q or something.”

“You are, though!” Hunter said emphatically.

“Yeah, but like we’d be a team,” Fitz said wistfully. “Jemma as well, of course. But instead Daisy's in a team with Mack. And Jemma's....well, you know. So you and I are left out. So that’s why I’m saying we should be a team. You can be James Bond and I can be Q. Except even better, because I’m like a field Q.”

“Absolutely,” Hunter agreed. “That's an amazing idea, mate. And you know, I’d be a perfect James Bond, you should see me in a tux.” He gave a wink and then took another slug of beer. “So how would this work?” he asked, as he lowered the bottle again. “The team thing.”

Fitz shrugged. “Any missions from now, we do them together. We just tell Coulson that’s the way we’ve chosen to work. A scientist-specialist partnership, it could be a new way forward for Shield.” He fell silent for a moment. “And it’s not as if Jemma or Bobbi will be back out in the field anytime soon,” he said quietly as he played with the label on his bottle again.

Hunter nodded almost imperceptibly as he stared sombrely into space for a moment. Then clearing his throat, he patted Fitz’s knee. “They’ll be alright, mate. They both just need time, that’s all. Those two girls, they’re stronger than you or I could ever hope to be.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Fitz agreed. “I mean, as far as we know, Jemma’s basically the first person on earth to ever get sucked into an alien portal, transported to another dimension and lived to tell the tale, but if anyone can recover from that, it’s her,” he said proudly.

“See what I mean?” Hunter said. “In the meantime, it might be good for us get out on missions together, stop us both moping about this base, worrying about them all the time. And we’ll have each other’s backs.” He looked as if he was pondering something for a moment. “Only thing is,” he said, “how will everyone know that we’re a team? You know, that you and I are partnership within the wider team, so to speak? Maybe we should have something to identify us, like a symbol or something.”

“That’s a good idea. We should get jackets,” Fitz said excitedly. “That maybe have the Shield logo and then our own special logo on them.”

“Where are we going to get them from though?” Hunter said. “Oh, wait a minute! Fitz, we should get t-shirts printed up! That’s much easier than jackets.”

“Hunter, that’s a brilliant idea. Let’s go and do that now, let’s get t-shirts.” He jumped up from the sofa, almost spilling his beer in the process. “We should get our names on the front of them as well. And then when we’re in the field and we introduce ourselves to people, you can say, “I’m Agent Hunter, this is my partner, Agent Fitz, and then we can pull our jackets open and show them our t-shirts!”

“Yes!” Hunter slapped the table enthusiastically. “I love it! The only thing is,” he added, “can my t-shirt say ‘Lance’ instead of Hunter?”

“Well, that kind of ruins the effect, Hunter, if you say, “I’m Agent Hunter”, and then open your jacket and your t-shirt just says ‘Lance’,” Fitz said in a disappointed tone.

“Yeah, well, I know, but…” Hunter made a self-deprecating gesture. “It’s just that ever since I joined the army when I was 18, everyone has always called me Hunter. Even Bobbi calls me Hunter. No-one ever calls me Lance anymore. Except my mum. I miss it.”

“Okay, okay, your t-shirt can say ‘Lance’ then,” Fitz acquiesced. “And I’ll call you Lance, if you want.”

“Would you? Aw, mate, that would be great,” Hunter said, grinning. “But only sometimes. Like when we’re having post-mission heart-to-hearts on our way back in the quinjet, you know when you’re telling me that my reckless disregard for safety almost got us killed and or I’m telling you that your anger is clouding your judgment in the field. Stuff like that. When we’re actually out in the field, we should call each other by codenames. I’ve always wanted to have a codename.”

“Oh, me too!” Fitz replied. “What should our codenames be?” They both thought for a minute.

“Well, yours should be something sciencey, obviously,” Hunter said eventually. “Or something mechanical…I know! You said you wanted to be the ‘gadget guy’ for a superhero. So what about ‘Gadget’? Like Inspector Gadget! ‘ _I’ll get you next time, Gadget_ ’” he growled in the Dr Claw voice.

Fitz grimaced. “It’s a bit gimmicky. Can my code name be something to do with monkeys? What about… ‘Monkey’?”

“Monkey!” Hunter looked appalled. “I’m not calling you ‘Monkey’, that sounds like a pet name! Plus, it doesn’t really tell me anything about you. A codename needs to be descriptive, it needs to say something about your abilities.”

“Yeah, but I really like monkeys,” Fitz almost whined.

“Oh, I’ve got it!” Hunter cried. “Grease Monkey!”

“I’m not a mechanic, Hunter,” Fitz sniffed deprecatingly.

“Yes, but you’re a _mechanical_ engineer,” Hunter replied. “And that name combines your job and your monkey thing.”

Fitz cocked his head to one side to think about it. “Monkey Wrench!” he said suddenly. “I like that.”

“Monkey Wrench!” said Hunter. “I love it. It’s perfect. Now, what about me?”

“Well, your name already sounds like a code name,” Fitz replied. “The first time I heard it, I thought of some guy stalking through a forest with a spear.” Hunter snorted. “What about ‘Spear’?” Fitz said.

“Hmm, I don’t know,” Hunter replied uncertainly. “It just doesn’t have that oomph, you know? That X factor that a good code name should have. A lance is something a knight carries. So what about something ‘knight’? Knights were medieval mercenaries too, so that’s fitting.”

“White Knight? Black Knight? Silver Knight?” Fitz asked.

“White Knight,” Hunter breathed, his head tilted as if considering it. “It’s a bit poncey. Black Knight’s a bit more badass.”

“Yeah, but it kind of sounds a bit menacing,” Fitz said.

“Well, that’s a good thing, isn’t it?” Hunter replied. “I mean, I am a secret agent, I want to sound a bit menacing, don’t I?

“Yeah, but it’s a bit too menacing,” Fitz countered. “Like Hydra menacing. We are the good guys after all, we want to sound heroic. That’s why White Knight is good. It’s catchy, too, it rhymes.”

Hunter looked unconvinced. “White Knight sounds like something out of a fairy tale. I kinda want something that sounds a bit more dynamic.”

Fitz shrugged. “Silver Knight? It doesn’t roll off the tongue in the same way, but it’s kind of mysterious or something. Plus, it does sound heroic.”

“Silver Knight it is,” Hunter agreed, as he raised his bottle. “To our team. To Silver Knight and Monkey Wrench.”

“To Silver Knight and Monkey Wrench,” Fitz said as they clinked bottles.

 

“Fitz, Fitz, our t-shirts are here!” Hunter came running into the lab carrying a cardboard box in his arms.

“Oh, here we go,” muttered Bobbi, rolling her eyes as she looked up from where she and Jemma were standing over a microscope.

Jemma shook her head in disbelief. “I can’t believe they’re actually doing this. Have you ever heard such nonsense? _Who gets t-shirts printed to go on top secret, technically illegal missions?!”_ They watched Fitz and Hunter tear open the box.

“Our boyfriends apparently,” Bobbi sighed as they shook out the white t-shirts with glee.

Jemma coloured and shifted awkwardly. “Well, Fitz isn’t actually my boyfriend…” she said as she suddenly became very interested in the microscope again.

“Oh, that’s just a technicality and you know it,” Bobbi replied, dismissing her objection with a wave of her hand. “Things are just on hold between you two while you work through your PTSD with Dr Garner. Fitz is _basically_ your boyfriend, you might as well start calling him that.”

“Jemma!” Fitz called excitedly as he ran towards her, holding his t-shirt up in front of him. “Look at our t-shirts! How cool is that?!”

Hunter walked over proudly carrying his t-shirt as well. “What do you think, Bob?” he asked her.

Jemma and Bobbi looked from one to the other, bemused looks on their faces.

“I don’t get it,” Bobbi eventually said.

“What do you mean?” Hunter replied.

“Well, why are they different?” Jemma asked. “I thought the whole point was to show that you were a team, why do they have different logos?”

“We couldn’t decide on a team logo,” Fitz answered. “So we decided instead that we’d each have our own logos.” He shook his t-shirt to demonstrate. “And people will know we’re a team because they’re the same t-shirt, Jemma,” he added condescendingly.

Bobbi and Jemma exchanged a look.

“So what do the logos mean?” Bobbi said.

“Well, mine is a lance, obviously,” Hunter replied.Bobbi leant her head to one side and squinted at it.

“Well, it’s a kind of an artsy representation of a lance. Of a spear head,” he snapped as he gestured impatiently at it. Bobbi raised her eyebrows as she looked at it, and a tad uncertainly, Hunter spread the t-shirt out on the bench to study it himself.

“And why is yours a hand holding an ‘F’?” Jemma asked Fitz.

“Because I make things with my bare hands,” Fitz replied as if it were obvious. “And the ‘F’ is for ‘Fitz’.”

“But it just looks like a hand holding an ‘F’,” Jemma said. “It doesn’t make it look like you’re an engineer. Why didn’t you get a t-shirt with a monkey wrench on it, to go with your ‘code name’.” She put the last part in air quotes.

Fitz looked deflated, bunching up his t-shirt and throwing it down on the bench. He turned to Hunter. “A monkey wrench, Hunter. I should have gotten a monkey wrench. No!” He started suddenly. “ _A monkey holding a wrench!_ Ahhhh! Why didn’t I think of that before? It would have been so adorable!”

Hunter placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “I think the design you have is wicked, mate.” He flashed an admonishing look at Jemma. “I like the hand thing, I think it’s very you. Plus, the t-shirts are only part of the look. I found a site where we can order customised jackets. We can get our team name put on the back.”

Jemma groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. Bobbi quirked an incredulous eyebrow at Hunter. “Your team name? Pray do tell.”

Hunter and Fitz grinned at each other and then turned to face the two women as they said in unison: “S.T.R.I.K.E!”

“S.T.R.I.K.E?!” Jemma and Bobbi responded at the same time.

“I’m almost afraid to ask,” Jemma said apprehensively, “but what exactly does S.T.R.I.K.E stand for?”

“Strategic Team for Reconnaissance, Intelligence-gathering, Kicking ass and Electronics,” Hunter declared triumphantly. There was a moment of stunned silence before Jemma and Bobbi suddenly erupted in laughter. Hunter and Fitz exchanged indignant looks as the two women collapsed over the lab bench, holding their stomachs and practically howling.

“Well, I’m glad you we amuse you,” Hunter said in an offened tone. “Have to say, really loving the support, ladies, it means a lot.” He gestured to himself and Fitz. “We’ll remember this when the two of us are legends in Shield history, the next Romanoff and Barton. We might even get asked to join the Avengers, who knows? We’ll see who’s laughing then, won’t we?” Fitz nodded defiantly.

“Oh, okay,” Bobbi gasped through her laughter. “And when the Avengers come begging the two of you to join them because of your ‘ _kicking ass and electronics’_ and all that, are you going to get t-shirts printed for them as well?”

Jemma spluttered, setting her and Bobbi off giggling again.

“Come on, Fitz,” Hunter said resentfully. “We’ll leave them to their bitter mockery. Meanwhile, you and I have a mission to plan.”

“We do?” Fitz asked in wonder.

Hunter gave him an exasperated look, and Fitz coughed. “Oh yes, that’s right. We do. A very important…top-secret mission.”

“That’s right,” Hunter said, with a triumphant look at Bobbi and Jemma, who were now struggling – rather unsuccessfully - to contain their mirth. “This is S.T.R.I.K.E business only. Direct orders from Coulson. Sorry, really can’t talk about it,” he said holding up his hands as he walked backwards towards the door.

Fitz followed him, giving one last reproachful look over his shoulder at Jemma before he exited the lab, letting the door swing shut behind him.

“Oh my god, they are such idiots,” Bobbi exclaimed as she placed a hand on her chest to try and control her breathing. “I can’t believe those two are actual Shield agents. Did you hear the code names?”

Jemma nodded several times in succession, her eyes squeezed shut as her shoulders shook in silent laughter. Eventually she blurted out, “ _Silver Knight and Monkey Wrench!_ ” before collapsing again.

“I mean, did you ever hear anything more ridiculous?” Bobbi said. “I swear to god, they are children. Actual children.”

Jemma sighed, wiping her eyes. “Oh, I do feel kind of bad now, though. They’re so excited about this. To be honest, it is kind of nice to see Fitz being so enthusiastic about something again.”

“Yeah, I have to admit Hunter’s been a lot happier since they started talking about this thing,” Bobbi agreed. “Honestly, I think they’re just trying to cope with everything that’s happened by acting out their childhood fantasies. You know as well as I do that being a secret agent isn’t nearly as cool as you think it’ll be when you’re a kid. it can be a soul-destroying job at times. And when it gets real…well, why not pretend like you’re on a TV show?”

“I just hope they’re not going to get carried away with this idea and become reckless when they’re out on missions,” Jemma said, her forehead creased in a frown.

“Oh, don’t worry, they’ll be fine,” Bobbi reassured her. “Hunter’s always been an idiot, but he knows what to do in the field. And Fitz has good instincts. But just in case…” She grinned mischievously as she reached across the bench to where Hunter’s t-shirt was still lying and pulled it towards her. She grabbed a black permanent felt tip and turning the t-shirt over, started to write on the back.

“Oh, Bobbi, what are you doing, they’re going to be mad!” Jemma exclaimed.

“Don’t worry, it’s for their own good,” Bobbi answered as she stood up. She held up the t-shirt to Jemma. On the back she had written, ‘If found, please return to Bobbi Morse.’ Jemma snorted and they both started laughing again. “Here,” Bobbi threw Jemma the pen and nodded towards Fitz’s t-shirt. “You do yours now.”

Jemma smiled and bit her lip as she leaned over the t-shirt and began to write.

 

“Unbelievable!” Hunter ranted, as he and Fitz walked down the hall. “Bobbi can try to start up her own bloody version of Shield but the minute you and I form a kick-ass team to try and help Shield, they’re falling over themselves laughing at us. Wait,” he said, stopping as he looked at Fitz’s face, “why are you smiling?!”

Fitz shrugged. “I know they were laughing at us, but I don’t care,” he said, scratching his neck as he grinned. “I can’t remember the last time I heard Jemma laugh like that. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I heard her laugh at all. It was definitely way before Shield fell anyway, and almost two years ago.”

Hunter’s face softened and he gave a wry little smile himself. “Yeah, it seems like a long time since Bobbi laughed either. I suppose I don’t mind her making fun of me if it amuses her so much.” He turned and started walking again. “And once she sees S.T.R.I.K.E. in action, and she realises that we’re serious and - by the way, that we are absolutely _smashing_ it - then she’s going to have to apologise, and I won’t mind that either,” he called over his shoulder. “Wait!”

He suddenly stopped again, and Fitz banged into the back of him. “I almost forgot!” He whipped around where he stood, almost knocking Fitz off his feet, as he reached into the inside pocket of his jacket. “Sorry, mate,” he said, grabbing Fitz to steady him with his other hand. “But I got us a present.” He pulled two pairs of sunglasses out of his pocket and offered one of them to Fitz.

“Sunglasses?” Fitz said curiously, taking them from Hunter.

“Yes,” Hunter said excitedly, “it can be like our signature. We both wear sunglasses in the field all the time, except when we have to examine something closely, or interview a suspect or something, and then we take them off…at the exact same time! It’ll be look really cool and intimidating, you’ll see.”

“Hunter, that’s amazing!” Fitz breathed as he tried his sunglasses on. “We’ll look like Agent Smith in _The Matrix_!”

Hunter put his sunglasses on as well, and they stood back to regard each other. “Mate, we look well cool,” Hunter said, putting two thumbs up.

“We do, don’t we?” Fitz concurred. “Damn, we left the t-shirts in the lab. I’m going to go back and get them. We should put them on with the sunglasses, it’ll look awesome.” He turned around and started to walk back down the corridor, but stopped short and took the sunglasses off. “I’m going to take these off though, because it’s dark enough in here. I can’t see where I’m going,” he added, over his shoulder to Hunter.

“Yeah, me too,” Hunter said, removing his glasses as well. “I’ll meet you back in the living area.” Fitz headed back to the lab, and Hunter continued on his way up the corridor, smiling to himself as he turned his new sunglasses over in his hand. All of a sudden, a loud yell from the lab stopped him in his tracks.

“ _Oh for the love of….! JEMMA!!! That’s not funny! You’ve only bloody gone and ruined them now!_ ”

 

“So our first mission together was not a success,” Hunter sighed, as he sat back on the sofa with a beer.

“It was a bloody disaster, Lance,” Fitz grumbled as he stared sullenly into his bottle.

“It was S.T.R.I.K.E.’s first mission, there were bound to be teething problems,” Hunter argued reasonably. “Let’s look at it as an opportunity to iron out the kinks. So now we know the sunglasses are a mistake.”

“Yes, they were, I couldn’t bloody see anything when I ran into that gift shop after the guy,” Fitz said. “I tripped over that portable step, fell into the shelf unit and nearly put my eye out. Look,” he said, turning to face Hunter, and pointing to the bruising around his left eye, “that’s from when the glasses smashed into my face. Jemma went mental when she saw it. Plus, I fell on top of all those glittery bath bomb things. I’ve had three showers Hunter, and I’m still covered in glitter!” he cried. “I’m sparkling, for god’s sake, it’s everywhere! And I smell like a bloody whore’s handbag,” he muttered irritably.

“Well, at least you didn’t get a tin of bright red paint spilt all over your new trainers, running through that garage,” Hunter complained. “I tried to wash it all off, but it’s dyed them bloody pink! Look!” He held up his foot to demonstrate. Fitz looked sadly at it. “Okay, anyway, we’re agreed the glasses are gone,” Hunter continued. “And we may also have to rethink the code names. ‘Monkey Wrench’ is not going to work as a code name, if when I call ‘Monkey Wrench’, you throw an _actual_ monkey wrench at me!”

“I panicked!” Fitz exclaimed. “We were in the middle of shoot out, I forgot it was my code name! It was like a reflex from working with Mack in the garage, I thought you wanted me to pass you a tool!”

“Why the bloody hell would I want you to throw me a monkey wrench?! You nearly hit me on the head with it!” Hunter cried exasperatedly.

“Well, I don’t know, do I?” Fitz snapped defensively. “I thought you were going to do some kind of cool spy stuff with it or something.”

“Okay, okay,” Hunter said soothingly. “Let’s just…move on now. We learn from our mistakes and we’ll be better prepared the next time.”

“Yeah, except in the meantime, they’re all laughing at us,” Fitz said moodily. “Did you see Daisy and Mack? Wearing sunglasses and pretending to stumble into things all afternoon, and giving each other ridiculous nicknames, like ‘Toaster’ and then pretending to throw the toaster at each other? Like they’re so cool. Well, I mean, you know, they are so cool but…whatever.”

“Ignore them, mate,” Hunter. “It’s easy to be smug when you’re a superhero and a bloody giant. So we cocked up a mission. So what? At least we didn’t try to take over Shield or almost destroy the base in a bloody earthquake. And they got over those things, we can get over this hiccup. Yes, we probably looked like idiots, but we’ll show them next time. You’ll see.”

Fitz still looked disbelieving, but he nodded his head resignedly. They heard a cough, and looked up to see Jemma and Bobbi walking towards them, looking very determined about something.

“Uh, oh, here’s trouble,” Hunter muttered, rolling his eyes.

“We have a complaint that we’d like to make,” Bobbi said, folding her arms and glaring at them both.

“Oh, yeah?” Hunter replied. “Well, join the queue, love, everyone’s got complaints today.”

“We’d like to complain about S.T.R.I.K.E.’s gender inequality,” Jemma said, folding her arms to mirror Bobbi.

Hunter and Fitz exchanged bewildered looks.

“S.T.R.I.K.E. is an exclusively male team,” Bobbi continued. “You have no female members. In this day and age, I just think that’s an outrage.” She held up a hand in disgust and stepped back as if she couldn’t bring herself to speak anymore.

A smile quirked at the edge of Hunter’s mouth and he sat forward on the sofa. “I see,” he replied carefully. “And what do you suggest we do about it?”

“We hereby petition you to allow female agents into your ranks,” Jemma said. “Agent Morse and I would like to formally declare our interest in joining S.T.R.I.K.E.”

Fitz bit back a grin as Hunter turned to him and quirked an eyebrow. He turned back to Jemma and Bobbi.

“Well, I don’t know now. I take your point about the gender inequality, but we can’t just let anyone join S.T.R.I.K.E. This is a very elite team, there are certain criteria that have to be met before you can be accepted as a member, female or not.”

“Name them,” Bobbi challenged.

“First of all, S.T.R.I.K.E. is not a democracy,” Hunter said solemnly. “Fitz and I founded this team, what we say goes and there is no argument. So if we’re out in the field and I say roll across the hood of a car with your gun in your hand because it looks really cool, then that’s what you have to do, you have have to roll across the hood of the car.”

Bobbi visibly struggled to restrain herself from rolling her eyes. “I understand,” she said slowly.

“Jemma?” Hunter tilted his head towards her. Jemma swallowed nervously. “Well, I think I’ll probably have to practice that first,” she said, “but yes, okay, I accept.”

“You also have to wear the S.T.R.I.K.E. jacket,” Fitz added. “They just arrived today and they look fantastic!”

“Yep! We even agreed on a logo,” Hunter said. “The S.H.I.E.L.D eagle with three lightning strikes.”

“Okay, that does actually sound pretty cool,” Bobbi admitted.

“And you’ll have to get your own t-shirts,” Fitz added. “That is mandatory for all S.T.R.I.K.E. members. Something with your own unique logo. And you’ll need a code name as well. You must only use your code name in the field, no real names. Not until the post-mission heart-to-heart.”

“ _The what now?_ ” Bobbi asked.

“Never mind about that,” Hunter said quickly, patting Fitz's hand to silence him. “As leaders of S.T.R.I.K.E., Fitz and I have to give you your code names. Bobbi, you’ll be…Mockingbird. Since you’re a bird and all you do is mock me.” He flashed a winning smile at Bobbi.

“Really, Hunter,” Jemma admonished, her hands on her hips. “We’re complaining about S.T.R.I.K.E.’s sexist admissions policy, and then you refer to Bobbi with such a derogatory term as ‘bird’?

Hunter swallowed nervously as he looked up at Jemma.

“What is that, ‘bird’?” Bobbi asked. “Should I be offended here?”

“It’s like ‘chick’ in America,” Fitz said. “It’s an English thing,” he whispered, covering one side of his mouth with his hand so Hunter and Jemma wouldn’t see him.

“Hmmm,” Bobbi said. “No, actually, I like it. But not because of your thing,” she said to Hunter, “I just think it’s a cool name. What about Jemma? What’s her name?

“Captain Britain,” Fitz said instantly. Hunter gave him an incredulous look, Bobbi looked impressed and Jemma gaped at him.

“ _Captain Britain?!_ ” Hunter said. “That’s got nothing to do with biochemistry or medicine! Plus,” he muttered to Fitz under his breath, “if anyone’s going to be Captain Britain, mate, surely it should be me?”

“But Jemma jumped on a grenade!” Fitz objected. “Just like Steve Rogers! She saved Daisy and me. Well, Daisy was Skye then, but you know…Jemma still saved us.”

Hunter and Bobbi stared at Jemma.

“It was a dendrotoxin grenade,” Jemma said, blushing. “It was no big deal, I was just out for an hour or so.”

“You didn’t know it was a dendrotoxin grenade when you jumped on it!” Fitz said. “Nobody did! I thought you were dead,” he added quietly. The room fell silent.

Hunter cleared his throat. “Very well,” he said. “Captain Britain it is.”

“Oh, no, please,” Jemma stuttered in embarrassment. “I’ll feel silly being called that. I think I’ll feel silly being called any code name, really.”

“Jemma, it’s S.T.R.I.K.E. rules,” Fitz said in exasperation. “Do you want to join or not?”

“Oh, of course, I do,” she said. “But can my code name be something simple, please? Apart from anything else, Captain Britain is a bit of a mouthful. Even Captain America's team-mates call him Cap.”

“What about Doc?” Hunter said suddenly. “In the military, field medics are traditionally called ‘Doc’. I know you’re a hell of a lot more qualified than a field medic, but it’s simple and it describes what you do.”

Jemma beamed at him. “I like it. I shall be Doc.”

“Okay, then,” Hunter agreed. “This whole Captain Britain discussion brings me to another point. Bobbi, when involved in S.T.R.I.K.E. business, you are going to have to speak exclusively in some kind of British accent.”

“ _Excuse me?!_ ” Bobbi exclaimed.

“S.T.R.I.K.E. has always been exclusively British, Bob,” Hunter replied with a shrug. “We were even going to have Union Jacks put on the jackets, but it became a sore point, because _somebody_ ,” he gestured his head in the direction of Fitz, “decided to get all political and demanded a Scottish flag on his jacket instead, which just completely defeats the point.” Fitz sighed. “But anyway, if we start letting Americans in, they’ll just take over. So you have to be British to join S.T.R.I.K.E, I’m afraid.”

“Can you do a Welsh accent?” Fitz asked her. “Because then we’d have all three nations represented on the team, which I think would be nice.”

“Oh, that would be,” Jemma agreed warmly. “Can you, Bobbi?”

“I can’t do any British accent,” Bobbi said, “and Hunter knows that, which is why he’s messing with me right now. And by the way, Fitz, are you wearing _glitter?!_ ”

Fitz swore.

Hunter chuckled. “The rules are the rules, Bobbi.”

“Isn’t it discriminatory to refuse someone admittance based on nationality?” Jemma asked.

“I can see you’re going to be a troublemaker,” Hunter replied, frowning at her. “Okay, Americans are allowed, but it’s still a British _-led_ team, so don’t forget that. Now, one last stipulation. In S.T.R.I.K.E we work in scientist-specialist partnerships. Fitz and I are partners. So you two will have to be partners with each other.”

“Oh, that’s fine by us,” Bobbi replied.

“No argument here,” Jemma agreed.

“And…” Hunter paused and stood up off the sofa. He folded his arms and his expression became serious as he looked at them both in concern. “S.T.R.I.K.E. is a field team,” he said gently. “We work in the field, not in a lab. So, joining S.T.R.I.K.E. means getting back out in the field. Are you both ready to do that?”

Bobbi took a deep breath and looked at Jemma. Jemma swallowed and nodded at her. Bobbi turned back to Hunter. “Yes,” she said. “We are.”

Fitz started off the sofa and stared at Jemma. “Really?” he said in an almost-whisper.

“Yes,” Jemma replied. “I am. I’ve been talking to Bobbi about it a lot, and Dr Garner has cleared me for active duty.” She leaned in towards Fitz. “And other things,” she murmured coyly. His eyes widened and he grinned back at her, the tips of his ears going pink.

“Bob, that’s amazing,” Hunter said, as he hugged her. “It’s good to have you back,” he whispered in her ear.

“It’s good to be back,” she whispered in return. “And somebody needs to keep you two idiots from getting killed.”

He pulled back and gave her a rueful look, and she gestured in the direction of Fitz and Jemma who were now just gazing at each other with big sappy grins on their faces.

“Yeah, I think we’ll leave these two alone now,” he said. “But before we go…” He cleared his throat loudly, and Fitz and Jemma jumped to attention. “I just want to conclude this meeting by formally admitting our new members. Agent Morse, Agent Simmons, welcome to S.T.R.I.K.E.” Bobbi saluted him and Jemma followed suit.

“Yes, I like the salute, I think we’ll keep that,” Hunter mused. “Okay everyone, we’ll break for tonight, and people can go and do…whatever they want to do,” he said with a pointed look at Fitz and Jemma. “But we will reconvene here at the same time tomorrow evening, and Fitz and I will teach you both the secret S.T.R.I.K.E handshake.”

“ _Oh, kill me now!_ ” Bobbi groaned.

 

Coulson stood in his office, staring out the window. He sighed heavily.

“Coulson, that’s the fifth time you’ve sighed in the last five minutes,” May said irritably, from where she sat at the desk behind him. “What the hell is bothering you?”

“It’s nothing,” Coulson replied, shrugging. “It’s just…Fitz and Hunter’s jackets arrived today.”

May tutted and rolled her eyes. “Phil, we’ve been over this. You’re the Director of Shield, you cannot be running around pretending like you’re in some action movie with those two idiots! It is not dignified.”

“But the jackets look so cool, May,” Coulson argued. “Did you see the lightning strikes?”

“I saw,” she answered tersely. “I also saw the absolute shambles they made of that mission today, because they were trying so hard to be cool.”

“I know, and I tore them a new one for that,” Coulson replied, “but I don’t know…it looked like fun all the same.”

“This is serious work we’re involved in, Phil. Dangerous work. It’s not meant to be _fun_ ,” May replied.

“I know, I know, you’re right,” Coulson sighed. They fell into silence for a few minutes and May returned to the report she was writing on her laptop.

“It’s just…” Coulson began, and May rolled her eyes again. “It would have been nice to be asked,” he continued with  a shrug. “That’s all.”

May didn’t respond. She just kept typing.

“May…” Coulson said.

“Oh, for god’s sake, Phil, what is it?” she snapped.

“What if you and I got our own jackets.”

May sighed heavily.

 


End file.
